


Fool for You

by oOAchilliaOo



Series: Fool for You [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:48:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oOAchilliaOo/pseuds/oOAchilliaOo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a fool.<br/>She would never love him. Never care for him.<br/>He was a Templar (well an ex-Templar, but he wasn’t sure that the distinction was clear enough to her for it to matter) and she was a mage.</p>
<p>Cullen muses on his feelings for the Herald, meanwhile Evelyn muses on her feelings for the Commander.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fool for You

He was a fool.

She would never love him. Never care for him.

He was a Templar (well an ex-Templar, but he wasn’t sure that the distinction was clear enough to her for it to matter) and she was a mage.

She probably hated Templars on principle, and who could blame her? The atrocities committed by some members of the order on her kind were worthy of her hate, and he could hardly claim innocence. He’d wanted to kill all the mages in Kinloch Hold without mercy. He’d been so angry, so scared. Sometimes, he still had to fight down that particular visceral reaction in his gut when magic was performed in close proximity to him. Sometimes, he still had to forcibly stop himself from suggesting measures that he knew in his heart of hearts were too harsh, and yet a part of him still coveted them. 

The anger had at least abated with time and with Kirkwall, but the fear was still there. At least he was aware of it, he supposed, at least he tried to limit its effects as best he could.

His best was probably not good enough.

And he was broken, he knew that. The terror and pain of Kinloch Hold, the guilt over what that had turned him into, what he had let happen in Kirkwall. All had successfully killed the eager, honest, young Templar he had once been. He would never, could never be the man he’d been before, the man Mia still wrote to on occasion. The scars went too deep, far too deep for that and he wasn’t even sure he completely liked the man he was trying to be, let alone the man he was. 

She deserved someone whole and healed, and that wasn’t him anymore.

She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He had thought her pretty the moment he’d turned around on the battlefield and seen her; the determined set to her jaw, the fighting spirit sparkling in her eyes. The fullness of her lips as she had almost smiled at him had captured his attention, and he’d wondered, even then, what it would be like to kiss those lips. He’d had his men and the fight to think of and had done no more that note the fact at the time. But he hadn’t seen then how her bright full smile transformed her face, how her hair framed her face once let down, the joyous twinkle in her eyes as she teased him about Templar chastity vows.

Maker, she had really asked about Templar chastity vows, hadn’t she?

He had hoped, for just a moment, that she was asking in order to discover his own availability. For one second, out there in the snow, he had thought that it could be true. But here in his cold, practical, familiarly uncomfortable bed, it all seemed terribly unlikely. It was far more likely that there was some Templar that she had loved in the Ostwick circle, and she was merely asking him because he was the closest thing to a Templar here.

He scoffed at himself. Of course she already had someone, or had her eye on someone.

She was so beautiful, but not only that. She was kind, compassionate. She had gone out of her way to help those refugees at the crossroads. She had a quick wit. She had made him smile with a well-timed sarcastic comment more times than he could count. She was bold, daring. In the war room she knew her own mind, her own opinion, and wasn’t afraid of sharing it. She was clever, not just well-read, but clever. She could navigate the complexities of building alliances and read the hidden subtext in the letters they received.

And she was beautiful.

There was no way in all of Thedas that a woman like that was without someone.

And even if she was, a woman like that would never, should never, settle for someone like him.

He loved her.

But he was a fool.

She would never care for him.

*

She was a fool.

He would never love her. Never care for her.

She was a mage, (technically an apostate now but she’s not sure that that word has any meaning anymore) and he was a Templar.

He probably hated mages on principle and who could blame him? Magic was dangerous, abominations were terrifying and she’d heard some truly terrible rumours emanating from Kirkwall. Maker only knew the horrors he’d seen committed in the name of mage freedom, and she could hardly claim innocence. Her birth had ensured that she’d had more freedoms than most in the Circle, but still, she’d felt trapped, permitted to go nowhere without the hulking, intimidating presence of a Templar. Given the chance, how far would she have gone for freedom?

She’d never really had her chance, and her opinion had mellowed somewhat since she’d seen the effect free mages could have on the world. 

But still, it’d be a cold day in hell before someone locked her in a Circle again, and that was probably not an attitude that would wash well with him. 

And besides, even if he could overcome her being a mage, why would he? Why bother? Especially when he could surely have his pick of the ladies. 

He was, quite possibly, the most handsome man she had ever seen. 

She’d thought him so the first time she had ever seen him, fighting for his life against the demons from the fade, demonstrating an impressive skill and an excellent command of the battlefield. Then he’d removed his helmet and she’d caught her first glimpse of that damnable lip scar and his puppy dog eyes. Then he’d spoken and the tone of his voice, somehow both soft and hard, had almost melted her at first hearing. She’d done no more than note these facts at the time. They’d been in the midst of the battle and the implications of her then-mysterious glowing hand had still been swirling through her mind. 

Also she hadn’t seen then how humour could transform his face. He didn’t usually smile, nothing as obvious as that but if you looked closely enough, you could spot the sudden bright sparkle that appeared in his eyes, catch the small, almost indistinguishable lift at the corner of his mouth. She’d seen it even as the colour had spread across his cheeks when she’d asked him about Templar chastity vows.

Maker, she’d really asked him about Templar chastity vows, hadn’t she?

He always held himself so stiffly, even while not technically on duty, and she’d wondered if perhaps that was why. Well, that and it had always been one of those unsubstantiated rumours floating around the mages in the Circle, and she’d always wanted to know if it was true.

But mostly, mostly, she’d wanted to know whether, if they could somehow get past the mage/Templar issue between them, she had a chance. Part of her had hoped that he’d say he had taken those vows so that there’d be no chance, no chance at all and she could put these silly feelings to rest. 

Alas, it was not to be.

Instead he’d looked almost… pleased? Even as he’d blushed and stammered something in his expression seemed almost… yes, pleased or at least she’d thought so at the time. Out there in the snow it had seemed like it could be so. Here in her small, cold, hard, unfamiliar bed it seemed less likely. It was far more likely that he was thinking of some lover he had, or had had, whatever. Either way that was the most likely source of the blushing she’d found so adorable. 

She scoffed at herself. Of course he already had someone, or had his eye on someone.

He was so handsome, but not only that. He was brave, bold, yet somehow sweet at the same time. He cared for his men, making sure to push them whenever they needed it, but also making sure they were always cared and provided for. On those occasions when just the ladies were present, he was softer, almost gentlemanly in his mannerisms. He had a subtle, dry, carefully crafted sense of humour that rarely came out, but had never yet failed to make her smile when it did. 

And he was handsome.

There was no way in all of Thedas that a man like that was without someone.

She loved him.

But she was a fool.

He would never care for her.


End file.
